Innocent Until Proven Guilty
by DarkXCrawler
Summary: Story about Sayid and him dealing with the racist other members on the island. Rated for swearing. Chapters 2 and 3 are up. Please r&r!
1. Default Chapter

Day 5:

Charlie woke up with a start. He had always been a light sleeper and found that this night he was awoken by sudden rain drops kissing his face. He sat up and looked around on the beaches edge to see if anyone else was awake. All he found was a dark figure sitting on the beach, his feet almost being touched by the incoming waves on the sand, his back to Charlie. At first he thought it was Jack, but as he still looked, he saw that it was the Iraqi man, Sayid. His trademark curly hair couldn't be mistaken for anyone else's; although it looked as though they were soaked wet from how the moon reflected off of those smooth curls. Charlie decided that he might as well talk to him, maybe ask him if they were in for a big storm or not. Or he wouldn't speak to him at all, just sit with him, for Charlie knew better than anyone else that sometimes just being with someone is better than talking with them.

He stood up, with some difficulty as Sawyer was sprawled on the sand, quite close to him, snoring as loud as a pig. Charlie wondered how he couldn't have been awoken by _that_ noise instead of the rain as he slowly walked towards Sayid. He sat down next to him, resting his elbows on his knees, and for a while just gazed out to the waves. A slight wind blew both men's hair and seemed to refresh them too. Charlie saw Sayid close his eyes and slightly lean back his head as the breeze began to blow stronger. It was then that Charlie noticed that there were two steady streams running down the man's cheeks from his eyes; Sayid had been crying. He felt very uncomfortable then, because they had exchanged glances before but they had never really spoken to each other about their past and who they had left behind. He had a feeling that in this case, the Iraqi was weeping over a woman that he missed, perhaps his mother or wife? Charlie had never really been involved with a woman to say he would cry over the thought of her. Oh, sure he had been with plenty in bed, but most of them he really didn't care about. He didn't understand love.

Sayid broke the man's thoughts. "Can you not sleep well?"

Charlie cleared his throat before he responded and managed to shift his body weight a little. "No, this bloody rain woke me up." he gave a slight chuckle hoping to get one from Sayid, but he wasn't so fortunate in his hopes. He blinked and looked back at the waves, wondering what to say to this man whom he had no clue what he was about. He fortunately didn't have to think long.

"There is a storm coming." Sayid said and for the first time looked at Charlie. "It is going to be a very bad storm."

"Really?" Charlie asked surprised that his voice was cracked.

Sayid looked back towards the waves. "Yes."

"Is it going to be a hurricane?"

Sayid surprised him as he laughed unexpectedly. "Not that kind of storm, my friend. One within the group. Everyone is getting suspicious and arguing with each other." he paused and considered how he wanted to say his next thought. "I think someone's going to have to be banned from the group."

"What?" Charlie was very confused. "Who? It isn't me is it?"

Sayid shook his head and sighed, almost sounding like a whimper, "No, not you."

"Who do you think it could be?"

"Me, Charlie. I think it would be best if I would leave."

Charlie registered this for a second, knowing how he responded to this would be very important. He chose his words very carefully, not wanting to disrespect or anger the man. "You think that because you are from Iraq that noone trusts you?"

Sayid wiped a tear away from his face and fought to keep his lip from quivering. "My people are terrorists. Why should they trust me?" He waited until he regained his voice before he went on. "All they know about us is that we murder people on television and blow ourselves up in planes and busses."

"You sound as if you don't like your people."

"No, I respect them for their strong conviction in their faith, but I hate that they kill innocent children."

Charlie paused giving Sayid a moment to gather his thoughts back, and then continued. "Sayid, I don't know a damn thing about you, but I do know that this is not the reason why you are crying. What else is wrong?"

Sayid sniffed and furrowed his brow as he looked at Charlie again. The two just sat for a moment, looking into each others eyes as if they would lead them down into their inner soul and answer all the questions they had for each other. Charlie broke the gaze to look again at Sayid's soaked hair, which he still hadn't a clue how it got so wet. "Why is your hair wet?"

The Iraqi looked away and ran a nervous finger through his curly mane, "I had taken a swim." With this, he went to stand up but Charlie grabbed his arm, startling even himself at his boldness.

"Bull shit, your clothes aren't that wet. Why is your hair wet?"

"I left my clothes on the beach, now release my arm."

Charlie did, but as Sayid went to walk away, he spoke again, "Why do you always hide from everyone?"

Sayid stopped, standing still, back turned to the drug addict, arms and shoulders tense, almost bulging from his muscle shirt.

"You always keep your feelings to yourself. Maybe if you would talk some more, you would feel better."

Sayid turned a sad face to him and shook his head slowly. "People want to forget their own problems, not hear about mine." With that, he turned and walked away.

Day 7:

Claire was still pregnant and seemed to be bulging by the day. Her baby was getting overly impatient of his current home, and she could sense that he wanted out. She gazed around at the others working and sighed, _who could want to live out here?_ she wondered as she fixed her eyes on Sayid. That man was as strong as a rock with arms thick like telephone poles and very defined features. He was chopping wood or whatever it was, she couldn't tell by her distance from him. She had no clue what he was doing it for, maybe to build a shelter, but whatever it might be, he sure didn't seem happy. He looked very sad all the time, as she thought of it, and wondered if it might be that he missed his old life. Who wouldn't? They were all stuck on this God-forsaken island that had some sort of curse on it, she could feel it.

Sayid passed by her, carrying a large bundle of wood with him into the jungle. She had heard a small clip of a song he was singing to himself, which sounded beautiful. Claire was going to ask him what it meant, for she was sure he was singing it in his language, but he had passed too quickly for her to ask. She sighed and felt her bulging stomach that held the second life inside her. She felt him kick again and laughed as she thought of the idea of him playing footsy with her.

There it was, the singing again, and this time she had managed to ask him as he went by. "Sayid!"

The man turned to face her, ax in hand, sweat running off his face, "Yes, what is it?"

She fought to stand, for having a giant twenty pound bubble on your front side does not make it easy to get up from the ground. She took a few steps closer to him, playing with her fingers, and furrowed her brow against the bright sun, "I was just wondering what you were singing."

"Ah," he smiled and wiped his brow with the back of his hand, "It is a song that my mother used to sing to me."

"Can you translate it?" she asked hopefully.

"Most of the words cannot be translated directly to English but I will tell you the chorus, alright?"

She smiled and nodded waiting for him to first translate it in his mind and then to her.

"Hmmm. Let's see. It goes something like this:

When our children cry

Let them know that we have tried

And when our children scream

Let them know that it will pass

When our children doubt

Make them believe again

But when our children sing

We know that we have achieved our purpose."

Claire smiled with him and clapped her hands once, "Wow, that is very-uh-"

"Deep?" Sayid offered.

"Yes, very deep. Is it like a children's rhyme?"

Sayid considered and nodded his head, "Yes, I suppose you could call it that."

She nodded again and watched him as he made his way back to the wood pile, getting ready to chop more of it. She sat down on the sand and watched him again, this time noticing that he looked even sadder than he was before. Perhaps, she thought, he had left behind a son. Nobody really knew anything about him except for his Iraqi origin and that he always kept a few pictures of a woman with him, perhaps his wife or mother or sister. She thought it was sweet of him to be so loyal to her, if the woman was his wife. She gazed down at the bubble of a stomach she had and began to wish that all men were loyal, not just a select few.

Day 8:

According to Michael, Sawyer was a jerk. The guy was obnoxious and even worse, a hick. He knew Sawyer hated him and his son because of them being black, but he never would admit it openly to anyone. They all would think he was paranoid. Some part of him told him to let them think he's paranoid, but his stronger side to be accepted by all won over. Actually, laying on the sand in self pity for everyone hating him because of something he couldn't control sounded very appealing at that moment, and so he got down on the sand and began his misery.

He suffered for about two minutes until he heard a cry from far off the beach. It was an angry cry, and was followed by the sickening noise of knuckle against skin. He sat up and looked down along the stretch of sand and found Sayid on the ground with Sawyer standing near him. He saw Sawyer begining to kick the former Iraqi republican guard member in the side over and over shouting various racial slurs to him. Michael yelled for Jack and began to run towards them.

"Mother fuckin' terrorist!" Sawyer yelled as he looked for something stronger to hit Sayid with. He found one of the wood logs Sayid was chopping up and grabbed it about to beat the living daylights out of him. Sayid had managed to get onto his feet and was facing Sawyer when he turned around with the log in his hands. Sawyer smiled evily and instead of hitting Sayid with it, as he had anticipated him doing, he threw it at him, striking him in the leg.

"Aaaaugh!" Sayid screamed and fell to the ground clutching his leg which he was certain was broken. Sawyer was then contained by Michael and Jack before any more damage could have been done to him and was taken away to be hand cuffed to the wreckage. Sayid lay there on the sand in a moment of agony until Jack and a few others returned to him.

"Holy, shit, dude!" Hurley yelled as he saw Sayid's leg that was bleeding internally, causing it to be red and purple in the spot he was hit.

Jack dropped down in front of him and began examining his leg. Kate knelt by him and ran a hand through his jet black curly hair, hoping to give him some comfort. Charlie shook is head and folded his arms as he watched Jack's slightest touch shoot intense pain in Sayid's body.

"What happened, Sayid?" Kate asked.

"I do not exactly know." he confessed. "I was sleeping against my pile of wood when he drug me by my hair to my feet and punched me so hard I fell on my back. Then he kept kicking me in my face and side."

"Dude, your eyebrow is bleeding too, man." Hurley pointed out.

Sayid tested a finger on his brow and found it bloody and sensitive. He watched Jack as he examined his leg and sensed that the man didn't believe his story. Jack to him was a very easy person to read and couldn't hide his thoughts no matter how much he tried. Jack stood up and clapped his hands. "Well," he said, "Your leg is broken. We need to somehow fasten it to a couple of straight pieces of wood."

"I know what to do, Jack." Sayid said, feeling very vulnerable with him sitting while the others, besides Kate, were standing. "I just need you to get sticks and some vines for me."

Jack nodded and sent out Hurley, Kate, and Charlie to get the supplies for him. He stayed with Sayid and sat next to him, not speaking, waiting.

"You don't believe me." Sayid stated.

"No, not at all."

"Why?"

"Because Sawyer wouldn't just attack somebody for no reason, Sayid."

"He has a reason, Jack, you just don't want to accept it."

"What are you talking about?"

Sayid sighed, "He hates anyone who isn't white."

Before Sayid could finish, Jack broke in with an exhausted sounding sigh.

"You need to deal with this, Jack." He told him, "You can not just keep ignoring it. We all are racist, and we all hate each other for whatever reason, but you are not helping us deal with it!"

"I'm a doctor, not a psychiatrist."

"You have accepted responsibility as our leader. You cannot ignore such a sensitive issue!"

"Do not tell me what I am responsible for, Sayid!" Jack sneered into the mans face. "You are the one not taking responsibility! You don't want to admit what you did, so you'll just blame it on somebody else."

Sayid paused, glaring at Jack. This was the first time they had gotten into a real argument. He then slowly, calmly said, "And I suppose you hold me responsible for all the terrorism, don't you?"

Jack looked at Sayid, considering his question, and replied, "I only hold you responsible for being a part of it. You could have changed the government."

"I am one man, Jack, what possibly could I have done against hundreds? If I had denied Saddam's sovereignty, I would have been tortured and killed!" he almost shouted.

"Well, I wouldn't have followed a sadist like that." was all Jack had said before he walked away, leaving Sayid to tend to his own leg when the others had returned with the supplies.

Sayid ran a hand through his hair and breathed, "Asshole." under his breath.


	2. Everythings going to be alright

Day 10:

Hurley was glad that Sawyer had to sit out in the sun most of the day. He didn't trust the guy, nor did he openly express it either. He didn't like to see people hurt except when they deserve it. He gazed out onto the beach and saw Sayid, crippled though he was, dragging a long piece of wood towards his pile that he had already chopped up. Jack had apologized to him the day before and helped him make a better cast for his leg. Luckily, it was broken around his shin and not the thigh so he could still walk without a crutch but he did need to humble himself to use a cane (which Locke had carved out for him).

Hurley made his way over to the Iraqi man, seeing him pitifully try to drag that piece of wood with one hand and a cane in the other. Hurley smiled to him, "Here, let me help you." He said as he easily took the wood in his arms.

"Thank you so much, Hurley!" Sayid praised. "I never knew how difficult it would be to move wood with a broken leg."

"No problem, man." Hurley laughed. "You shouldn't be straining yourself anyway. Didn't Jack tell you to stay off of your leg anyway?"

Sayid limped as he walked; using the cane for more support even though it sank down in the sand a little. "Jack is a good man but I think he might have babied me too much yesterday."

"He felt guilty for what he said after Sawyer attacked you."

"Yes, but I forgive him. He did not mean to say what he said. It is hard being a leader without such cases happening."

Hurley set down the wood next to Sayid's pile and looked back towards Sawyer finding Kate talking with him. She didn't look angry, but sorry and was continually touching his shoulder or chest. Sayid looked in the direction of Hurley's focus and crossed his arms.

"How could she like him so much?" Hurley wondered out loud.

"Why not?" Sayid asked surprising Hurley.

He stared at him and when Sayid gazed back he saw that he was earnest in his question. "Because." Hurley said. "He is mean."

At this, Sayid couldn't help but laugh. He quickly suppressed his giggles as he saw Hurley's confused look. "He is just a man, Hurley. At least he is honest and upfront with what he thinks."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hurley wasn't mad or aggravated; he just thought that maybe this buy was meaning something by his last statement.

Sayid smiled, "I wasn't trying to imply anything." He said.

"Can I ask you a question?" Hurley asked in an embarrassed tone.

"Of course."

"Why are you so happy? Did you get some last night or something?"

They both exchanged laughs and smiled. "I honestly do not know."

Hurley gave the man a pat on the back and walked away, leaving Sayid to lie down against his pile feeling very tired. He again thought about Hurley's question and began wondering why he lied to him. It would have let the poor man down to let him know that all the laughs and smiles were just fronts he put up.

Sayid sighed and closed his eyes. It didn't take him long to fall asleep, no matter how hard he felt Sawyers eyes watching him. _Let him watch,_ he thought, _He is just jealous._ Yet, as much as he told himself this, he still couldn't believe it.

Day 12:

Sayid watched himself almost as if it was a video game. He had no idea where he had gotten the gun, probably from some luggage he had found during the jungle stroll he just took. He watched Charlie and Sawyer roll onto the ground locked into a fight that would end one of their lives. No one else was there besides Claire, who was sobbing and yelling for Sawyer to get off of Charlie. She obviously didn't want to hurt the baby so she stayed back from them, watching in horror as Sawyer began to beat Charlie in the head over and over again, making him bleed and cough as the blood ran down the man's throat into his lungs.

No one was there to help; no one could stop this chaos, except for Sayid, whom no one seemed to know was even there. He gazed down to the gun in his hand, how familiar it felt between his fingers. For a moment he paused, considering all his other options, but decided he must shoot, to only injure and not kill.

Sayid aimed the gun and shot, erupting the forest with a loud cracking sound. He watched in horror as Charlie became limp under Sawyer. _What have I done?_ He shouted in his mind. Sawyer stood up and looked at Sayid with a very self satisfied grin. Claire was busy looking in awe at Charlie, her best male friend on the island, lying limp among the brush; still like a dead thing.

She turned towards Sayid. "You killed him." She said softly.

He fought for words to say, but he found none. He backed away as she suddenly lunged at him, but Sawyer for some reason contained her, holding her back. She continued her shouts. "Get away from him!" she shouted.

Sayid looked over at his friend on the ground, seeing him with a bleeding chest just lay there. He panicked; he had no clue what to do. How could he face anyone now? He would be killed by the others; burned alive in the wood pile he had chopped up himself. He had made his own coffin.

"He killed him!" Clair screamed.

Sayid sat up suddenly, almost screaming out into the night. He gazed around and sighed. It had only been a dream. He looked to see if he woke anyone else up in the camp and found Charlie, very much alive, sit up next to him, apparently watching over him.

"What is wrong, Sayid?"

Sayid didn't look at him, but seemed to be looking out at nothing as he sat there for a moment, not responding. Just when Charlie was going to ask him again, Sayid lay back down (very slowly) and turned his back towards Charlie. "It was just a dream, Charlie." He replied.

He heard Charlie shuffle around near him and tried to better control his breathing. He took in deep breaths and let them out slowly, trying to calm himself down.

"Just a dream."


	3. Hope and a Storm

(hey, thanks for the reviews. I tried to change as much as possible to fit all of your wishes. This chapter is kinda a chapter to lead into the next climax. please r and r! thanks!)

Day 14:

It was 2 weeks since they crashed. No one could tell though; they were still unorganized without a main shelter to have and any food stored. A select few (Jack, Kate, Sayid, Hurley, and Charlie) were helping build a shelter to be used for when the rain comes. Locke had said that it was expected to rain in the next few days because of the light showers they had been having in the past couple weeks. Shannon was very afraid of this as most of her clothes needed dry cleaning, but no one, besides her brother, cared anyway.

Sayid sometimes took pity on the girl. He wondered how she got the way she did; if it was just because of her family being rich and spoiling her or if she was just that terrible of a person that she thought she deserved anything. He found her laying in the sun, trying to tan that very white skin of hers, just relaxing as the others worked. Sayid passed by her with a bundle of vines, leaves, and other things he would use to fix a roof and walls for their shelter, when she raised up from her laying position and pulled her sunglasses back.

"Hey! Um, Sybil?"

He turned around, a little annoyed but tried not to show it. "Sayid." He corrected.

"Sorry, Sayid. Do you think you could get me a bottle of water?" she asked him sweetly.

He smiled, though his stomach was really turning, and dropped his items, making his way over to the stash of water. When he returned, he had no plans of leaving just yet and so he stayed watching her drink for a little bit, then sitting down near her on the sand.

"Taking a break?" she asked him.

"Yes." He said. "I wanted to speak with you, if I may." He turned to face her but she made no move to respect him enough to even look at him. He mentally noticed this but didn't let it bother him.

"I do not do charity." She said rather coldly.

"I didn't want to talk to you about that." He spat, this time showing his distaste for her attitude. "I wanted to know if you knew some things about yourself."

She raised an eyebrow behind her sunglasses and turned her head to look at him. He had no clue what those beautiful eyes underneath shown, but he had guessed it was shock or maybe confusion. He waited for her to sit up and face him, which she did after some awkward moments of silence with him staring at her.

"Do you know that you are a very hard person to do favors for?" he asked her rather plainly.

She paused, playing nervously with her fingers, and didn't really want to respond. She wondered if she should be honest and open with this man, or if she should close him out like she closed out everybody else.

"I know it is hard facing yourself but I believe you will be happier if you do." He said wanting to be gentle. "You are hurting the rest of us by refusing to take care of anything."

"I do my part." She stammered and tried to think of something she did recently that he would accept as work. "I cleaned up the beach a little the other day." She paused as she saw his exasperated look, becoming more nervous and deciding to attack him instead of try to defend herself. "Well, what are you doing, then? Sitting on your ass here talking while you should be making a hut!"

Sayid paid no heed to this sudden outburst and replied calmly, "You still didn't answer my question." He scratched the top of his head and smiled warmly, playing mind games with her. "Do you know that you are a hard person to do favors for?"

She hesitated. "No."

"You do not do much to help everyone else here and you expect us to do everything for you." He said. "Why would we want to do something for someone who doesn't appreciate it, but expects it?"

Shannon shook her head and lay back down on the sand putting an arm over her face, showing her uninterest in whatever he was saying. "Go away." Was all she managed to say.

Sayid considered and then stood, picking up his pile and walking away without another word to her. He hoped he at least started to have her think of her selfish ways, but then again, one couldn't hope for much on this island.

As he turned to the west, Sayid saw clouds as black as night begin to show their face on the horizon. He sighed and looked back towards their unfinished rain shelter; just a skeleton at that point. He wondered if they would be able to finish it in time for the storm, but he wasn't sure. It would be a stretch and more people would need to pitch in.

He gazed back to Shannon, who was still laying on the sand in her own little princess dream world. He sighed and shook his head as he turned back and went to help the others with the shelter. Charlie and Hurley smiled at him, not asking what took him so long, but letting him go. As the old saying goes, let sleeping dogs lay. He again thought of Shannon and her uselessness. He was right; hope has forsaken this dreaded place.


	4. Lastly

Hey everyone!!!!

Sadly to say, I will not be finishing this story… I think it's best to keep it without an ending for now. I know that all the mean reviews are going to be streaming in but, hey, I don't really have very much time to write as I have a hectic schedule.

Upcoming is going to be some funny short fic's instead of serious ones. I don't like the dark dreary ideas that I've been having lately and am going to be more positive…

Sorry for those who wanted an ending…

ElfDarkness


End file.
